Still making music every Friday night, and I'm pretty sure the drama-filled growing pains are just about over. All healthy and good to get the system pure. New tunes will probably be posted within few weeks.

My proverbial plate is brimming. On top of all Wingmen productions I'm still working on Blogorian, and now I'm working on a zombie-based project with DR, Woodall, Robin and Kevin. That one's going to be a couple years in the making, so don't expect much word on that for quite a while.

Elizabeth is going to be two-years-old in eight days. My baby girl is... well, she's everything to me. I find myself staring at her in wonder, completely bewildered at how amazing she is. She spends three days each week with me, and the possibility of a schedule shift at work leaving me with only two days per week with her is physically painful. There was a brief time that her mother was considering letting me have her through the week during school schedule, and I was elated. It didn't pan out, but hey, there's always next month. (Sorry, inside joke there.) Elizabeth's latest habits include reacting to anything unexpected with a shrug of the arms and exclaiming, "Wha- happen?!" Her mannerisms fascinate me.

As a natural response, throughout her life anytime she'd handed me anything I would reply with "Thank you, Elizabeth". Well, she eventually came to understand that the act of handing something to someone was called a 'tankyoo' and now says that anytime she'll hand you anything. As a matter of fact, when she wants something out of reach she'll start yelping, "Tankyoo daddee, tankyoo". She's now graduated to a point of replying to a 'thank you' with an affirmative "y'welcome Daddee". She's an incredible help in the kitchen. I sit her on the counter to help me cook by counting out the measuring cups of ingredients we're mixing, and as soon as a box or paper packet is empty she asks, "Way?", which is Bibble-ese for "throw away". As soon as I'm done changing her diaper: "Way?" Just don't run the vacuum around her - she knows full well that that thing is made of death itself and will devour her unless she runs shrieking to the other side of the house.

What I find most comforting are those early mornings when she's brought to me and she's still a little tired. We turn on Yo Gabba Gabba (her absolute favorite show ever) and I'll lie down on the couch with her on my belly and for the next twenty to thirty minutes there is nothing in this world except my daughter and I. The world could burn and I wouldn't notice or care. When she wakes up in the middle of the night and I pick her up to rock her to sleep, her head on my shoulder as she drifts off to sleep... at those moments I know pure serenity and comfort and purpose.

Actually, what's broken my procrastination with updating this site was a series of comments on an older article. Events have occurred lately that have finally brought together a real sense of understanding in regards to my marital situation (or lack thereof).

Please understand that my next assertion is not an ego-based delusion but an actual fact that has been proven many times throughout my marriage. I know and understand Vickie. Possibly more than anyone alive and more than herself, I understand how her mind works. Throughout our marriage I was able to neutralize many of our conflicts by talking things out with her and helping her understand the root of the issue. It's part of what made our friendship so strong - as long as she was honest and open with me (i.e., as long as I had all the facts) then I could easily discern the problem.

What had always confused me was that despite understanding her so well, I could never predict what her actions were going to be. It never did make any sense that I could understand the present and past so clearly, but future events were never what I expected.

Communication between us broke down a few weeks ago, beginning with a phone call and a story. The story was preposterous, as ridiculous as calling a police officer to report that someone had stolen your cocaine. We sent text messages back and forth that night with escalating hostilities, finally ending with a phone conversation that lasted about an hour. During that conversation I was able to ascertain the key to the mystery, that final piece of the puzzle that made everything take form.

I couldn't predict her actions and responses because everything that I knew about her, all the data that I was using contained a false assumption: I'd assumed that she loved me.

When I begin looking at everything without that assumption then everything fit. She loved what I did for her, the support and attention I provided, the care and affection for her and her family, but she didn't love me. In no way am I saying that she consciously lied to me. To be honest, I don't think she can tell the difference between infatuation and love. She throws herself into a relationship so completely that she believes 'this must be love'. In this, every one of us she's dated has at some point been "The One". I'm pretty sure I understand why she feels this way as well as the source it, but, put frankly, it's no longer my cross to bear.

This final revelation was, understandably, difficult to accept and has a far reaching effect. It means that our marriage was never what I thought it was, and now when I look back at it I'm disappointed that I didn't grasp the idea earlier - but let's be blunt here: I have been in love with her since I met her, and that sort of devotion doesn't come without a gigantic set of blinders. I had to propose to her twice; she'd broken off our first engagement within 24 hours. I never did tell that tale, only mentioned in my blog announcement that I'd asked twice to be sure. She even used to say to me "you love me better than I love you". Never realized how much she meant it, and I don't think she did either.

I was in love with her, a devotion that has only been eclipsed by the devotion I hold for my daughter. I proposed to her through that love and I would have carried her through any conflagration through the strength of that love, and it was through that devotion that our child was born. My daughter represents the greatest thing I've done in this world. I did my part. I gave myself completely. I was tricked. My life's capacity for devotion was stolen and abused. My best friend betrayed me and stole my good faith. I can always be cordial, but I can never forgive such a base act. It sours the stomach.